


The Way Back to You

by misha_collins_butt



Series: And the Stars Will Fade and the Moon Will Fall but Please Stay With Me Tonight [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal, Angry Sex, Bottom!Sam, Breathplay, Choking, Fluff, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Make up sex, Penetration, Smut, Snogging, reunited, top!gabe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 18:37:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20314147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_collins_butt/pseuds/misha_collins_butt
Summary: Sam Winchester's sleepless night in the bowels of the bunker takes an unexpected turn when someone he hasn't seen in years shows up to save him.





	The Way Back to You

**Author's Note:**

> ATTENTION, the point of this is not to diminish Sam to a sniveling, dependent nothing that abides by whatever another person says. This was simply a kinky little fantasy I thought up and got really lightheaded over because holy fuck if someone let me do this to them I would be putty in their hands okay so don't act like this is something against Sam Winchester. Sam Winchester is my pure beautiful baby cinnamon babe that doesn't deserve to be hurt but gets too much shit anyway and I'm so proud of him for handling it all like a boss and I just wanted to portray a vulnerable side of him I believe he only has with Gabriel and Dean and probably Bobby (and maybe his mother but like I haven't seen enough of that to really infer).

_Sam stands in the middle of his room in the bunker, alone. But it's not his room, not really. It's not lived in like his is. It's barren, empty of any trace of human life. He turns, hands coming up defensively. It's his room. But it's not._

_A rustle from behind him makes him pivot back, and he stumbles backward at the sight of Gabriel, standing before him with somber but curious look in his eyes. His lips part and move, but no sound comes out. Sam shakes his head._

_"What?" Sam asks, incredulous. "Gabriel. Where have you been?"_

_"Wake up," it echoes through his mind like the clang of metal through a tomb. It's Gabriel's voice. But his mouth isn't in sync with it._

_"I am awake," Sam replies dubiously, examining the archangel. "Gabe, what...what happened? Why--"_

Sam sits up, drenched in sweat and breathing sporadically, but back in his bed.

Another dream.

He's been having them for weeks now. Hasn't told anyone, not even Dean. He's going insane, he swears.

He gulps, and rakes his fingers back through his hair. Closes his eyes. Collects himself. He can't stand this torture. He's been missing his angel since he walked back into that motel only to see him lying, puddled in blood, on the ground surrounded by the ashy outline of his wings. He'd run to Gabe's side and crouched, tears shivering from his eyes and dripping into the angel's hair. He'd held Gabe's cold face and sobbed, screamed at him for leaving, wailed until his throat was raw, begging him to come back, accusing that he'd promised to never leave like that.

Sam's eyes begin watering again. He lets himself cry. Silent, prayerful.

A noise like a shoe shifting from the corner of his room snaps his eyes open. On high alert, he searches through the dark for whatever it was and finds the outline of someone short, long hair and casual outfit. His eyes adjust only momentarily and he catches a glimpse of familiar lips, and rushes to flip on the lamp beside his bed.

But when he turns it on, there's nothing in the corner except for a chair piled with books beside a coat stand. And he sighs, salty water dripping into his mouth.

"Just a dream," he reassures himself in a whisper, and turns the lamp back off. He checks the time on his digital clock. 1:34 a.m.. "Just a dream."

He falls into his pillow gracelessly and turns his head to the side, features lax.

"But I loved you," he breathes, a wisp of listless anger budging between strands of still air. "I love you."

He screws his eyes shut, clutching at his pillow. Turns his face into the fabric and screams. He's weary. So tired and so sick.

Another noise, this time from the ceiling in the opposite corner of his room, and he's slamming the light on, exasperated.

"If you think--"

It's not Gabe.

In fact it's not an angel at all, but a very human looking creature, dangling precariously from the ceiling, neck bending sharply, unnaturally to the left as it stares with hungry eyes at Sam. A kyuuketsuki.

"How the hell did you--"

He doesn't finish before the Japanese vampyre is leaping at him, fangs glistening in a snarl.

Its nails dig smartingly into Sam's arm, then, with an unbearable pang, break his skin and plunge into his muscle. He tries to shout, both in pain and warning, but the vamp is clamping its other hand shut over Sam's mouth, and its face is creeping ever forward, teeth wet. They graze his neck thoughtfully and he hears it breathe in his scent. He's too busy struggling out of its grip to try and understand how it got into the bunker in the first place, and just as he thinks he's about to die, tips of its fangs pushing dauntlessly into his throat, the thing is shoved violently off the bed, its nails ripping from Sam's arm, eliciting a groan of pain.

Whatever pushed the vampyre off is now tackling it to the ground and hissing an incantation of Enochian descent. Then a hand is on the vamp's neck and the room is glowing bright yellow, sparks flying in front of Sam's eyes but never touching him, and the vampyre is gone.

The man stands slowly, unfolding himself from his position over what used to be the vamp and now is the floor.

Sam's heart jumps, pulsing an erratic beat into his arms, which isn't helping the hand that's going numb from blood loss. His stomach plummets into the pits of anxiety and a claw creeps up his windpipes, speeding up his breathing.

The man turns, but his eyes don't meet Sam's. They stay fixed on the ground, sheepish. But there's no question anymore.

Those dreams weren't dreams - they were subconscious represantions of what his body knew but his eyes couldn't see.

Gabriel doesn't speak, doesn't move. Doesn't even seem to breathe.

"Gabe?" Sam asks, hope welling in his gut. He scrambles to his hands and knees and crawls across the bed. Stops at the edge, unsure. "Gabriel, baby?" He begins to reach out to the angel, and at full extent, his fingers graze the rough fabric of Gabe's jacket that he knows so well, and Sam's face contorts in relief and shock, and then he loses his balance on his arms, which nearly collapse beneath him before he's able to skitter to his feet. He pads, resolute now, to his angel, and lifts his face with rough hands. When Gabe finally looks him in the eye, all the air is sucked from Sam's lungs and his knees buckle as his eyes go blurry. "Gabe! Gabe," his hands wander of their own accord across the angel's body, checking to be sure he's real, really here, in Sam's room. "Gabe, oh my God. Oh my God. My Gabriel."

Sam quickly folds the shorter man into his arms, unable to stand on his own any longer, burying his face in Gabe's hair. Gabriel's hands come up to Sam's back, hesitant at first, then gripping his shirt so tightly he can't breathe.

They sink to the floor, bodies trembling, and Sam rocks them, whispering senseless nothings between pressing his lips to Gabe's skin.

Then, with tears in the cracks in his lips, he leans down and kisses Gabe fervidly, mouth shivering with relentless sobs.

"Where were you. Where the hell were you, huh?" Sam blubbers, pulling Gabe's hair from his face and petting his hand back across the shaggy mess, eyes glued to Gabriel's resolvedly, solemnly. "Do you understand the shit I went through? Huh, Gabe? How could you do that to me? How could you leave like that? Why--"

"I'm sorry," Gabe finally breaks, face crumpling into a whimper, a tear escaping his left eye. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Sam. I didn't think--I would make it out, I really did. I didn't mean to leave you. And when you thought I was dead--fuck, I couldn't stand seeing you like that."

"You weren't dead?" Sam pulls back, betrayal weaving itself through his anguish.

"Yes! Yes I was. I was dead, Sam. I was dead for what seemed like an eternity but then...then I woke up. On the side of the road in a small town in Alaska. I didn't...I didn't understand. How I got there or why I was still alive but-but I couldn't--"

"Are you kidding me, Gabe...?" Sam stares, disgust dragging his tears through burning cheeks. He pushes the other man off him and backs away, shaking his head. "How could you--"

"Please," Gabe whispers, voice hitching. He's rocking himself, bracing to be hit, and Sam's anger drops like a bowling ball and fades to softness. "Please let me explain. Please."

Sam doesn't reply, lets them sit in silence until he feels the crawling, tingling sensation of being too numb, and he says, reluctantly, "Okay."

Gabe swallows, and takes a deep, shaky breath in.

"I woke up a year after the night in the motel. But I didn't try to find you...because I didn't have any grace. It was gone. My wings were clipped too. I was powerless, in the middle of snowy nowhere, and clueless about how to be human. It took me another year just to find my way back to North Dakota. I'm not resourceful, Sam. Not without my grace." Gabriel shakes his head slowly, eyes pleading. "I went to Bobby's house, but...no one was there. So I hotwired a car and...Sam, it's taken years to find you. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry it took so long. Please, believe me. I've been trying. I just...I had no idea where to even start looking." Another tear meanders aimlessly down his face. "It wasn't until about a month ago that I got a clue. I was in a diner, asking the waitress if she'd seen you guys and she pointed out the window. You and Dean were getting into the impala. I sprinted out. Tried to get your attention but you were already driving off. I followed you. Took me a week to finally find a way in."

"How..._did_ you get in?" Sam asks cautiously, scooting forward once more. "We keep this place locked up tighter than Area 51."

Gabe smiles, fingers unbending and fluttering across Sam's uninjured arm.

"Cassie let me in."

"Cas knew?" Sam frowns, looks around on the floor for a clue. "Why didn't he--"

"I made him promise not to tell."

Sam stares at his angel in disbelief. And realises something else.

"If you...don't have your grace how did you--"

Gabriel holds up a small metallic device that looks like a circular blade combined with a vape pen and a flashlight.

"The yellow light waves interact with the chemicals in the holy water and make it some kind of weird anti-vamp potion that goes onto the blade and into their neck." He tosses the device to Sam. "You probably have more use for it than I do."

Sam examines the metallic grey piece, like tin, cool and smooth in the palm of his hand. But that's not what interests him right now.

What's interesting him is Gabe's lips, not currently being occupied by his, and the fact that it's been so long since they have been.

Sam drops the contraption on his dresser and scooches forward, crawling into Gabe's lap, hands tucked beneath Gabriel's hair, and shoots up to connect their faces where their words appear in bloody paint.

"I missed this," Sam breathes, wrapping Gabe's hair around his fingers and guiding his head as they kiss with a fervent needwantnow unlike any they've experienced before. "You. You and your ridiculous inventions and your insufferable, implausible explanations and your stupid, beautiful lips. I missed it."

"I know, kiddo," Gabe murmurs, hands massaging through the chocolate mop on Sam's head. "I know. I miss you too."

"Shut up and kiss me," Sam growls, falling into Gabe with a force that knocks them to the ground with a thump. 

And it turns desperate, because it's been eons since Sam has felt Gabe's kiss and it's driving him mad that they are not naked right now, that he is still craving that skin to skin contact that he could not muster the courage to find anywhere else.

Sam pushes Gabe's shirt up, his jacket off, his jeans down, and shoves his hand into his pants eagerly, touch starved and dying of feeling unloved for years. He knows he's loved. He is, just not the way Gabe always seemed to love him. The way Gabe would always distance himself from everyone but the moment Sam smiled at him, he would become flustered and blushy and his voice would get soft and glimmery and there would be a little sparkle in his eyes. And no one loves Sam like that. No one loves Sam like Gabe does.

And he needs to be reminded of that. Needs to carve it into the walls of his room and gasp it into the oxygen he breathes. And, secretly, he kind of just wants the excuse to have angry make up sex with a love he hasn't seen for a long while.

The fingers in Sam's hair get harsh, yanking his head back so contrastingly docile lips can lap at the skin on his throat. He's heaving air like it's food and he's high and in a way he kind of is - cloud nine is his couch and Gabe is his equally high boyfriend and the hand on Sam's back is warm like a blanket. It slides sneakily into his sweatpants and kneads his ass greedily, and the lips on his neck become violent like the fingers in his hair and turn into nipping teeth and vacuum volume sucking. 

"Gabe," Sam grunts, hips grinding, teeth gritting, hands white-knuckling. "The floor-" a gasp as Gabe bites down hard just behind Sam's ear "-is not the most comfortable place for this."

So, without a word, Gabe, lips never leaving Sam's skin, pushes them up to a standing position and throws Sam onto the bed with a brutal hunger in his eyes. He approaches slowly, hips swaying, jacket discarded on the floor behind him, hands skimming skin as he lifts his shirt provocatively, teasingly. Sam doesn't hesitate to whip his own shirt off over his head, much less seductively than Gabe, but at this point he just wants to be nude and in bed with Gabe's cock up his ass and his teeth buried in his arm as he tries not to scream and wake the others.

Gabe crawls up onto the edge of the bed, between Sam's legs, and slips a finger just beneath the waistbands of Sam's sweats and briefs. With one swift motion Sam's coverage is lost completely and he's sitting bare-ass naked in his bunker room with Gabe in front of him, unbuttoning his jeans, eyes glued to Sam's.

He feels his pupils dilate - that's how big they get, that it hurts to open his eyes all the way.

"What are you gonna do to me?" Sam mumbles, hands clenched in the bedsheets, stomach twisting in anticipation because hot damn he misses these types of nights - the ones where they, for whatever reason, decide making love isn't enough and decide on something a little more rabid. And contrary to popular belief, Sam was into that kind of stuff before he met Gabriel.

He's always been a freaky little shit, he's just never had the right person to do it with.

Gabe drops his jeans, not bothering to get them all the way off, and leans down, fabric clad dick chafing against Sam's.

He whines and Gabe spreads a hand across Sam's chest, sliding it up until it reaches just below his chin, then squeezing so Sam has to wheeze to breathe and he begins seeing colours in his periphery as the blood supply to his brain slows. And then the words come, lethargic and sensual, with Gabe's lips pressed right up against Sam's ear.

"I'm gonna hold you down and you fuck you so hard you have to layer those pillows on top of your mouth to scream and you won't be able to walk tomorrow. I'm gonna grab you by the throat and bite your neck so hard you bleed and I'm gonna hang you so far off the edge of the bed that you'll be tearing holes in this comforter of yours," Gabe takes a quick nip at Sam's ear and Sam is in shambles, breathing erratic, chest convulsing with the sweet scent of Gabe's hair, nails ripping bloody lines in Gabe's skin as he loses all sense of control.

"Fuck," Sam moans, bucking his hips into the pain of the rough fabric seperating his member from Gabe's. "Gabe, please. Please, fuck me. Want you, I need you."

The grip on his neck loosens, and the lips beside his ear become lax.

"I love you," Gabe mumbles, pushes a ginger kiss into Sam's cheek. "I love you, Sam."

Sam's eyebrows come together and his eyes begin tearing up once again, and his fingers stop digging graves in Gabe's back and he slips his arms all the way around the angel's waist and hugs him close. 

"I love you too," he rasps, voice muffled, face buried in Gabe's shoulder. "I love you more than anything. But we didn't just get all excited for nothing." He smirks against Gabe's skin and plants a taunting kiss in the crook of his neck.

"Fuck, you always did know how to get me going, you little shit," Gabe sighs and Sam begins tugging at his briefs. "Damnit."

And then they're naked, grinding together with little puffs of air escaping between their lips and Gabe shoves his fingers in Sam's mouth, dripping with spit, and reaches down. Teases Sam's hole with a light, circular motion, then slides into him effortlessly.

Sam's back comes up off the bed but Gabe forces him back down with a growl and a quick, warning bite to Sam's neck.

And Sam tries not to make a move as Gabe stretches him, teases him, presses into his prostate, drags his lips across Sam's chest. Because he knows that means Gabe will stop, go back to teasing circles around his rim, and he just wants the man inside him, pounding into him, reminding him that this is real, that Gabe is real, that he won't lose him again.

And soon, Gabe is pressing the blunt head of his cock against Sam's ass - after having finally snatched the lube from Sam's nightstand drawer - watching his reaction, studying his every move. Sam twitches, refraining from begging unless Gabe tells him to, when, with a sudden, shocking movement, Gabe grabs Sam's hips and pulls him forcefully down onto his cock and Sam grabs a pillow and slams it down over his face, screaming into the soft fabric.

"Sam. Put it down. I want to see your face."

Sam obliges, letting the pillow fold ito a slump beside his head, and lifts his arms over his hair to grab hold of the sheets. 

Gabe smirks menacingly. Chuckles low.

"That's my boy." And then he's hammering into Sam with effortless speed and precision, hitting his prostate each time. Lifting Sam's legs over his shoulders and angling up dangerously. "Fuck, Sam, you're so tight. Haven't had anyone since I left, huh? Been saving yourself for me."

All Sam has the strength to do is nod, lip caught between his teeth as he attempts to keep it all in.

"Don't cum until I tell you to," Gabe grumbles, eyes trailing down Sam's chest. Sam whimpers, but a warm, calming hand ghosts across his ribs and a soft breath from between Gabe's lips, "I won't hurt you, Sam. I love you. You're safe. We're together now."

Sam nods again, head tilting back of its own accord when Gabe speeds up, the jut of his hips poking into Sam's thighs with every thrust, the tip of his dick dragging against his most sensitive bundle of nerves. 

And then Gabe is leaning down, lips delicate with the perilous words balanced across his teeth, "Cum for me, baby. I wanna see your face. Haven't watched you do that for me in so long."

And Sam does, thick and hard, spurting ropes across his stomach, and Gabe knows just what to do - after he admires Sam's features for a second, he muffles Sam's scream with an easy, lapping kiss, fingers tangling in Sam's hair. And then he feels Gabe quake, slam into him one last time. He fills Sam with his warmth, with his angry love, nails exhuming superficial nerves and veins in his hips, and a single, passing syllable escapes Gabe's throat, one Sam hasn't heard anyone say to him the way Gabe does for years.

"Sam," Gabe moans, cock twitching inside Sam, then beginning to soften. Gabe hunches over Sam's body, back dilating, air puffing against the mess on Sam's stomach. "Shit. Haven't felt this good for an eternity." His hands wander across Sam's chest, gently up his throat, hooking behind his ears. He pulls out and climbs upward, sitting right down in Sam's come without a care in the world, and levels his face with Sam's. "You make me feel like no one else can, Sam. You're so special, so wonderful. You make me think there's hope, that there's still kindness, still some form of a pure soul. Sam, you do all that for me and so much more, and I never want to leave you again. I never want you to lose me."

"I don't want that either," Sam shakes his head, brows pressed together and eyes sorrowful. "I love you," he murmurs, just against Gabe's lips. "I've always loved you." He kisses those lips, sombre and slack.

"Except for when you hated me for a while," Gabe smiles slowly and Sam chuckles, fingers smoothing over the wounds he made earlier along Gabe's spine.

"Except for when I hated you, right," Sam chases Gabe's lips. Catches the bottom one between his teeth and tugs gently. "In my defence, you did kill my brother a whole bunch of times."

"I apologise," Gabe's smile lifts slightly, so his teeth are visible. "That was my bad."

"It's okay. At least you let me hate-fuck you a few months later," Sam whispers, stifling a laugh. He lifts his head and kisses Gabe longingly.

"Damn right," Gabe licks his lips predatorily, hunger shadowing his eyes again. "And I might just let you do it again. I need to make up for leaving somehow--"

Sam shakes his head for the billionth time, catches Gabe's lips between his for the millionth, flutters his nose against Gabe's for the thousandth, like they used to do on those cold winter nights when they would make love slowly and press their lips to chilled skin to take in each other's warmth.

"Just having you back, here with me, physically, emotionally," Sam mumbles, grabs a chaste peck, "That's all I need. That's all I want."

"And so you'll have me," Gabe replies, face serene. Then his smile fades and he takes a deep breath in. "Only one problem left."

"And that would be?"

A smirk slowly creeps into Gabriel's lips, marring his gentle features with snarky enjoyment and Sam gets a bad feeling in his stomach.

"How are we gonna tell Dean?"


End file.
